


Fever

by ladypredator



Series: Fever Series [1]
Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alien Illness, Angst, BAMF!Rush, Crisis, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 08:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladypredator/pseuds/ladypredator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another planetary expedition and another crisis on board the Destiny combine to put everyone's lives at risk, but especially Dr. Rush's. This should read very much like an episode, with a focus on Rush, written from Greer and Young's POVs.</p><p>Note: This was first published on ffnet and became a series, two stories by the wonderful EllieV and one more by me.<br/>The series goes: Fever (by me), The Greater Good (EllieV: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5582660/1/The_Greater_Good), Lunch at Stravaigin (EllieV: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5642263/1/Lunch_at_Stravaigin) and Eye of the Storm (by me).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Another planet, another risk, but they desperately needed food and there wasn't time to wait for Franklin's hydroponics to produce anything edible.

Peering over Colonel Young's shoulder at the console, Sgt. Ron Greer saw a mixture of grassland and trees with rocky cliffs rising above a river in the distance. The kino spun dizzyingly and he turned to glare at Eli.

The young man said, "Sorry, sorry," and made rapid adjustments on the remote control. The kino settled down, hovering near the Gate.

"Atmosphere breathable, climate comfortable enough," was Doctor Rush's short assessment of the data he and Sgt. Riley were skimming through, his soft brogue rolling through the words.

"Looks like a go," Young pronounced. "I'll…"

"You shouldn't take the risk, Sir," Greer interrupted. "I'll go," he said. "If you want a more senior officer, send Scott or TJ."

Young opened his mouth to argue, then sighed, and acquiesced. "Take them both. Corporals Peterson and Williams, as well, perhaps the excursion will make them less – claustrophobic."

Greer had to hide a chuckle at that. The two young soldiers had recently been expressing their 'claustrophobia' by playing mean jokes on most of the scientific staff. They had hit the wall, however, quite literally, with Rush, who scared them both off by shoving Peterson up against a bulkhead and threatening to feed him his balls. As a result, the mischievous pair was now scared shitless of the acerbic scientist, which had gone much further than Young's disciplinary attempts towards curtailing their extracurricular activities.

He looked up at the man in question, whose shaggy-haired head was still bent over the console, focused on the illuminated screen. "What about you, Doc?" he asked.

"I'll go," was the succinct reply. Rush lifted his head and rubbed at his stubbly chin. "Franklin should come along, he's a botanist, and maybe Park as well. A geologist might come in handy given the mountainous terrain."

"Eight people's plenty," Young said, forestalling Eli's bid to go as well. The Colonel's glare was enough to make the point. Eli subsided, though not without a huff of disappointment.

"Plenty of time," Riley noted, pointing up to the countdown above their heads. "Almost 48 hours."

Young nodded and pressed the communication button. "Lieutenants Johanson and Scott, Corporals Peterson and Williams, Doctors Franklin and Park, prepare for on-world excursion and report to the Gate room. ASAP."

They spread out at the foot of the Gate. Greer didn't know what season it was on this particular planet, but the temperature was definitely just right. Warm enough not to need jackets, but with a cooling breeze that felt good on his skin.

Franklin and Park had already gone for the trees, exclaiming happily at the sight of apple-like fruit, some nuts, and a mushroom-like fungus. Greer wasn't too certain about the last one, but beggars couldn't be choosers and anything was better than getting the runs from the mostly liquid protein diet they'd been on.

TJ and Scott were staring up at the mountain peaks and trying to estimate the distance to the river. Extra water was always a desired necessity. Peterson and Williams were wandering around, presently staying out of trouble, but Greer gave them a warning glare anyway. From the way they came to attention in response, Greer was happy to note that they were almost as scared of him as of Rush.

The Doc himself was standing nearby, his intent, observant gaze taking in every aspect of their surroundings.

The Gate whooshed up and the radio in his hand squawked. Young's tinny voice asked, "This is Young, report."

Greer lifted the radio, turning towards the shimmering Gate, and replied. "Everything's fine, Sir. Looks like we've got some fruit, nuts and…"

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. The air whooshed out of his lungs as a shout behind him was followed by a body hitting him in the back and knocking him flat to the ground.

There was a roar overhead and the sense of something really big thumping into the ground beside him and he turned his head just in time to see a huge mouthful of razor sharp teeth grinning at him.

A huge paw with inches-long claws swiped out towards him, but the man on top of him dropped his arm in front of Greer's face and it was that which took the brunt of the sudden attack. There was a cry of pain in his ear and then the sound of machine guns split the air.

The beast reared backwards, roared, and then fell over dead in a hail of bullets.


	2. Chapter 2

Greer laid still for a moment on the rough ground, breathing heavily, adrenaline racing through his veins in the aftermath of the near-death experience. The others were shouting while he became aware that the man laid out on top of him was clearly Rush, the long feathering strands of his hair soft on Greer's neck and cheek, his thin, but wiry frame pinned to Greer's back. Besides, no one could mistake that accent as it thickened heavily on a vicious string of swear words, some of which Greer couldn't understand, but heartily supported.

Rush rolled off to the side just as the others appeared beside them.

"Are you alright?" Scott yelled as he helped Greer up to a sitting position, still scarily close to the massive corpse of the beast.

Greer nodded, taking in a shuddering breath, then composed himself and reassured Scott.

"It's huge!... Looks like a giant panther!..."Oh My God!"

A jumble of reactions from the other flew past Greer as he turned to look at Rush who was already sitting up and being tended by TJ, her blond head bent over his left arm. Blood dripped from four long, sheer slices into his flesh.

Greer's stomach turned over. That was his fault. He hadn't been looking. He was supposed to be protecting Rush, not the other way around. The scientist had just saved his life and been wounded for it.

He practically crawled over to sit next to Rush. "Thanks Doc," he said, attempting nonchalance, but not knowing if he had succeeded. "How's the arm?" he inquired of TJ.

Her blue eyes were wide with leftover fear and her mouth pursed with concern.

"The cuts aren't too deep. Skin wounds bleed a lot, but that's good. The real worry is infection."

Rush shook his head. "If you're thinking of wasting an antibiotic shot on me, don't. I've had worse."

TJ frowned at him. "We have no idea what kind of bacteria or infectious organism that beast might be carrying. You're getting a shot." She glared right back at Rush.

"Take the shot, Doc," Greer insisted, relief lightening his tone. If Rush was being cantankerous, he was fine. It was when he got soft-voiced that you really had to worry.

A loud, electronic squeak reminded Greer that he'd been speaking to the Colonel when the attack had happened. He stood up and went to retrieve it, wincing at various bruises from hitting the ground with Rush on top of him, but Scott beat him to it.

"Colonel, this is Scott. We were attacked by some kind of animal, looks like a giant panther of some kind. Doctor Rush managed to knock Greer out of the way and we shot it. Drs. Franklin and Park are examining it now."

"Is everyone OK?" Young demanded.

"Rush took a wound to his arm from the panther's claws, but TJ's tending it now. Doesn't look too serious. Everyone else is fine," Scott reported. "Peterson and Williams are watching out now for any more of the beasts."

"Scott!" called Rush, lifting up his unwounded arm, palm out. "Let me talk to him."

Scott looked at Greer, shrugged, and went over to hand the radio to Rush.

"Colonel Young, this is Doctor Rush. Given the size of this animal and its resemblance to some of the large cats of Earth, I'd strongly suspect that we won't run into another, unless it has a mate and offspring. A predator this big tends to be solitary and is likely to control a good-sized territory. We'll be sending its remains through the Gate for analysis. It might be edible, but I think our time will be better spent searching for its prey."

"Edible?" Scott exclaimed, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"I'd rather eat it than have it eat me," Greer observed with some amusement.

"Its prey?" Young asked through the radio.

"A carnivore of this size must need a lot of meat. I would suspect that we'll find a herd animal of some kind, deer or goat-like perhaps," Rush said, then swore fiercely, jerking his arm away from TJ. He gave her a glare that would knock most men back a step but which she simply ignored, reaching out to take hold of his arm again.

"If you'd hold still, Doctor Rush, I can finish disinfecting and bandaging this faster," she scolded him softly.

He sighed and relented, his mouth pursing with pain as she finished applying the antibiotic cream.

"You all right?" Young inquired through the radio.

"I'm fine," Rush responded. "Close the Gate, so we can send the carcass through. We'll report again if we find that meat source. Rush out." He handed the radio back to Scott, not bothering to note Young's response.

It took a bit of clambering up through trees and rocks and steep slopes, but they discovered a meadow full of what looked like a wooly cross between a sheep and a goat.

Greer lifted his rifle to shoot, only to have Rush shove the barrel down.

"Don't waste the ammunition," he warned.

"How do you expect us to kill them?" Greer demanded.

"By using our brains."

Using their brains turned out to be a matter of digging holes, laying traps, and then driving the obviously stupid, but surprisingly quick-footed animals into them. Some messy knife work finished the job.

Park excused herself to vomit in the woods. Greer did his best to soothe her through the admittedly bloody process. Bottom line, they needed the food.

Franklin grumbled the entire time about being forced to help drag the animal carcasses through the woods, but Greer sneered at him. He'd bet Franklin would be among the first to eat the hopefully edible meat.

In the end, drawing additional hands from the ship, they managed to deliver 6 large beasts in addition to the panther-thing they'd sent through earlier, as well as several loads of fruit and nuts and a couple of loads of water. Eli's 'sled' turned out to be worth its weight in gold as it went back and forth.

Greer, Rush, Scott and TJ were the last four remaining planet-side as they sent it through for the last time. As they prepared to follow, TJ suddenly stopped and turned towards Rush who had stumbled on the ramp.

"Are you OK?" she asked, steadying him.

"I'm fine," Rush insisted, but he looked even paler than usual to Greer's eyes and he was instantly at the scientist's side.

Even so, he just barely made it in time to catch Rush as his body slumped and he collapsed into Greer's arms.


	3. Chapter 3

Colonel Young looked up and then ran forward as the final members of the away team came through the Gate and it whooshed off behind them, flares of white surrounding the three figures. Rush was slumped between TJ and Greer, his face hidden behind a veil of dark hair.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"He collapsed just as we were about to leave," Greer said, even as the scientist started to stir.

He lifted his head, groaned and pulled his good right arm off TJ's shoulders and ran a shaky, but still elegant hand through his hair, pushing it back out of his dark eyes.

"I'm OK," Rush insisted, stepping forward and pulling away from both TJ and Greer's holds on him. He made it about four steps to reach Young before staggering, pressing both hands to his temples.

Young caught him this time, wrapping both arms around Rush's waist and pressing their shoulders together to take Rush's weight. He wasn't heavy, and so thin. It was too easy to lock his hands together around the man. Rush's head hit his shoulder for a moment, then jerked away.

"Do you mind?" Rush demanded, though his voice wasn't as biting as usual and his attempt to free himself wasn't forcible enough to make an impact on Young's embrace. Greer and TJ were at their side in an instant, Eli hovering not far behind. No one noticed the engines squeal as the Destiny shifted into FTL.

TJ felt his forehead with a cool hand then examined the bandages on Rush's arm. "No bleeding, but he's running a fever. We'd better get him to sick bay right away."

"I do naught need…" Rush protested again, but Young was already moving him bodily. Greer reached out to help, but Young shook his head.

"TJ and I will handle this, Sergeant. Help Scott and the others."

"Sir!" Greer protested, his eyes meeting Young's, glancing at Rush's bowed head, then back at the Colonel. Young understood immediately. Greer's ethics were skewed and more than a little idiosyncratic, but when someone earned his loyalty, it was unwavering.

"I'll let you know," he promised. His tone softened so that only Greer and the barely conscious Rush could hear. "TJ and I will take care of him, I promise."

He got another murmured protest and feeble struggle from the man in his arms, but it was the nod from Greer that he was looking for. Their exchange of glances was a warning, a vow, and shared understanding all at once.

It was an obvious sign of how ill Rush truly felt when he settled down on the cot without another protest and closed his eyes. If he'd had the strength to argue, he would've.

TJ set about examining him briskly, her lovely face frowning as she reported, "Temp 103, heart rate 110, blood pressure 90/40, respiration 30, pupils equal and reactive…" she paused. "We need to get fluids into him. He really needs IV fluids, but we're short on normal saline and I'll have to jury-rig the IV."

"Do the best you can," Young replied. "What do you think caused it? His wound? Or should we be worried…"

TJ was peering underneath the bandage on Rush's left arm, causing him to groan softly.

"It's a wound infection, a fast one. I don't think anyone else is at risk. But if he's developing sepsis," her usually clear blue eyes were shadowed, "we could lose him. I'm going to have to try to culture the organism and meanwhile hope our antibiotics will work on whatever it is."

"Do the best you can and anything you need, anything, TJ, let me know." Young promised.

TJ's only response was to nod as she laid the back of her hand on Rush's forehead, gently brushing a wing of hair aside to touch his skin.

A few hours, and an inordinate number of minor nuisances, later, Young entered the medical bay to find TJ leaning over a microscope while Greer tried to force a recalcitrant Rush to drink more water.

"I've had enough," Rush grumbled, trying to push Greer away.

"You need fluids, so shut up and drink," Greer responded. He and Rush continued to argue. Young chuckled lightly to himself and went over to TJ.

"Our patient seems better," he said. She sat up and regarded him wearily.

"I gave him what we had of IV normal saline, plus aspirin and a heavy shot of antibiotics. It seems to have helped a bit, but he's still running a high fever and he's vomited a couple of times. I've been washing him down with wet cloths to cool him a bit, but we don't have an ice-maker, so no ice water bath." She rubbed at the back of her neck. "This bug isn't like anything I've seen before, but it does resemble a bacterium in that it is clearly unicellular and unnucleated."

"If it's a bacteria, the antibiotics should work, shouldn't they?" Young questioned.

TJ shook her head helplessly. "Only if it's sensitive to them and this thing is clearly alien."

A slight ruckus behind them made them both turn to find Rush trying to climb out of bed and Greer threatening to sit on him to make him stay put.

"Easy, easy," Young insisted, going to Greer's assistance and helping to push Rush back down.

"I need to get back to work," Rush grumbled. However, Young could feel the heat radiating off his skin and he looked deathly pale.

"It can wait," Young told him sternly. That only gained him a look of stubborn disdain.

"You're staying put until TJ says otherwise," he ordered. He could be just as obstinate as Rush if he needed to be. Again, it was a sign of how badly Rush felt that he subsided, if with a snort of annoyance.

"Colonel Young to the control room, please," came Eli's voice, high-pitched and uneasy, over the intercom.

Rush immediately tried again to get up. Greer and Young both shoved him back down.

"Make sure he stays put," Young told Greer who grinned sharkishly.

"Don't worry, Sir, he's not going anywhere."

Rush frowned at them both in frustration. Young smiled, nodded at TJ, then hurried out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Young leaned against the circular central console and shook his head while Volker and Brodie told him the same thing they'd told him weeks ago when the Destiny's power had failed.

"We're dead."

Eli was more graphic; he echoed what he'd told Young about Telford's plan to channel star power through the Gate, ending with "cats and dogs…" and again, Young interrupted him with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Enough," he said roughly, even though he wasn't sure he understood half of what they were saying. "If I'm hearing you correctly, Rush figured out how to monitor the power flows and right now the indicators are showing an overload of power to the engines."

Brodie nodded. "Yes, we think it's a problem with the coolant system, but we're not sure. We need Rush. He's the only one…"

"Who understands the systems enough to find the problem and figure out how to solve it," Young completed for him, fatalistically.

"I can do some of it," Eli offered hesitantly. "I've already figured out that if the power and heat in the engine core continue to rise at a steady rate, we have about 8 hours. If the leakage increases, well, less than that, I'm afraid. How's he doing?"

Young sighed and shook his head. "Not good, but at least he was awake a few minutes ago."

"You need to tell him," Volker insisted.

"I will," Young shouted back before taking a deep breath to visibly calm down. "But he's seriously ill and may not be in any shape to work, so the three of you had better start coming up with some ideas." Brodie started to protest and Young simply walked past him, calling out "Now" over his shoulder.

He didn't notice Eli following him as he left.

Unsurprisingly, Rush's immediate response was to try again to get out of bed. He got as far as standing up and then proceeded to waver, drop to his knees supported by Greer, and lean over to dry heave, his body convulsing.

Young helped Greer hoist Rush back into bed. TJ applied a damp cloth to his forehead with one hand, checking his pulse with the other. She shook her head at Young.

"I've got Eli, Volker and Brodie working on it," Young said. "They'll find a solution."

Rush's laugh was coarse, raw. "Eli might – might – come up with something, the others are useless." His eyes, despite the reddened and puffy skin surrounding them, were still intense as he focused on Young. "I'm the only one who can solve this."

"You're in no shape to be doing anything but sleeping," TJ told him firmly.

"If I don't figure this out, we're all dead anyway," Rush pointed out. He closed his eyes for a moment and seemed to slip away before startling everyone by suddenly opening his eyes again. "Unless we use the chair," he told Young with a hint of his old sarcasm.

Young shook his head. "Only as a last resort. We don't even know for sure it would give us the information we need."

Rush shook his head and then winced in pain at the motion. He laid his head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. "Looks to me like we're well at 'last resort' territory, Colonel, so I'd suggest we either start asking for a volunteer or you let me get to work."

"You can't even stand up," Greer told him, "much less work."

"I don't need to stand up to think," Rush told him. "Hold me up if you have to."

Young figured from the look on his face that Greer would willingly do that if needed, but Eli interrupted, surprising them all.

"Why don't I just bring a console here?"

Everyone turned to stare at him. He spread his hands wide. "Shouldn't be too hard. I can fix a floating console like on a mini-antigrav sled, like the other one only smaller, and we can link in the Kino video feed if there's something he needs to see."

"Do it," Rush ordered.

"I don't think… TJ attempted, worriedly.

"No, you don't," Rush told her, though there was none of the usual sharpness in his words.

"Rush," Young remonstrated, even though he knew it was useless.

TJ shook her head at him and smiled sadly. "It's OK. There isn't much choice, is there?"

No, Young had to agree, there wasn't.

Eli's floating console actually did function as promised, not too surprisingly. The surprise was that Greer turned out to be a pretty good nurse. His bedside manner left a lot to be desired, but he showed no flagging of energy or attention, or any sign of being bothered by helping Rush use a makeshift bed pan or cleaning up vomit after an attempt to feed him some liquid protein meal.

Rush, himself, staggered between moments of intense focus on the console and episodes of unconsciousness, as the fever continued to wrack his body. His skin was parchment dry and pale; his voice lowered into the thick accent of his childhood, his words coarse and difficult to understand.

TJ continued to wash him down with cooled, damp cloths but gave up on the antibiotics on his command. They weren't working. His body was going to have to fight this infection on its own.

He began to mumble to himself, half-working through equations, half-muttering insensible words, as delirium took hold and he desperately fought against the oncoming unconsciousness.

Young spent most of his time standing or sitting off to the side, watching Rush battle with both ticking time bombs, Destiny's failing coolant systems and the infection raging in his veins, simultaneously. The Colonel felt helpless, felt awed, felt useless. Their survival depended on a man who was barely conscious, yet managed, against any seeming shred of possibility, to keep his jittery fingers poking at the console buttons.

Finally, however, the illness appeared to overcome even Rush's incredible determination, and he collapsed backwards, eyes rolling back into his skull before closing.

Not knowing what else to do, Young scurried over to kneel at Rush's bedside next to Greer who was still supporting the back of the scientist's head with his hand. TJ wiped down his face and neck again, but shook her head at Young's inquiring look.

"He's still alive, but I don't know, sir. If the fever doesn't break in the next few hours…"

Young dropped his chin to chest. "Without a solution in the next three hours, it won't matter anyway," he whispered, trying not to notice the break in his own voice.

He – and TJ and Greer – all gasped in sudden alarm as Rush's hand abruptly grabbed at Young's arm and squeezed tightly. "Console," he whispered, forcing them to lean in close to try to hear him. "Code. Eli. Tell Eli…"

Three pairs of startled eyes met and then Young was on his feet, shoving the floating console ahead of him, his radio crackling as he shouted into it.

"ELI! Someone find Eli, NOW!"


	5. Chapter 5

The instant Eli saw what was on Rush's console, he nearly jumped out of his skin in excitement.

"That's it! Of course! Why didn't I see that? All I have to do is…" he trailed off into a jumble of technical terms that Young didn't pretend to understand. He was perfectly happy to let the ecstatic youth do whatever it is he had to do to solve the crisis.

It didn't take long for Eli to get Volker, Brodie, and Riley moving as well, and the repairs went shockingly smoothly. There was one tough moment when they thought they were missing a needed piece of equipment, but Wray tracked it down to everyone's relief.

Neither Riley nor Brodie were happy to get back into the Ancient spacesuits, but they did it. Eli got the compartments open from the control room and monitored them from there. Young hovered for a while; then gave up when it appeared that it came down to replacing some things and oiling others.

Disaster was averted, for the moment, yet again, and Young left Eli to monitor things with a grateful sense of relief that died quickly when he remembered the other crisis of the moment. If they lost Rush… that thought hit him hard. He paused in the hallway, telling himself aloud in harsh whisper that the scientist was just too damn ornery to die like this.

They couldn't lose him. They'd die without him… Young didn't know what he'd do without him. He shook his head, shutting any possibility of thoughts like that one away, ignoring the raw mix of emotions that boiled in his belly. He hurried down the corridor.

Entering the medical bay, Young found TJ slumped half-asleep by the microscope and a pile of culture dishes while Greer sat silently staring down at Rush who was shifting restlessly in his unconscious state.

"TJ, Greer, any change?" he asked.

They both looked up at him, startled. They shook their heads. Nothing more needed to be said.

Young swallowed hard, his eyes flickering back to Rush and then away.

"Go get some sleep, both of you." At the first sign of a protest, he waved his hand peremptorily in the air. "That's an order. Eli has the engine thing under control and there's nothing more you can do here. Go to bed."

Young reached out to gently touch TJ on her shoulder when he saw the unshed wetness in her eyes. "You did everything possible. Now it's up to him," he tilted his head sideways towards Rush. "Hey, if anyone's too contrary to let a stupid bacteria take him out, it's Rush. He'd think it was too insulting to his intelligence."

TJ barely managed a weak smile, but Greer chuckled softly, if wryly, from behind him.

"You're right about that," Greer agreed.

Young gave him a weary smile of his own.

"Go on, both of you. I'll stay with him. Go."

They finally went, leaving Young to take Greer's spot on the side of the bed. He sat there in silence, only the creaking of the ancient walls of the ship and the hum of the engines joining him in solitary watch.

Young never knew how long he sat there. Time seemed to stretch endlessly and darkness seemed to settle upon him, despite the glowing lights along the walls and ceilings. The only interruptions were Rush's garbled mutterings in a thick, harsh accent that made Young strain to make out recognizable words.

Rush's agitation began to increase and Young had to grab for his flailing arms, restrain his fingers from digging into and under the bandage on his left forearm.

Young began to talk to Rush, trying to soothe him, not saying anything too sensible, mostly "easy, relax, it's OK, I'm here," and similar refrains. It probably didn't matter what he said, just the sound of his voice seemed to help. Rush slumped back and then curled in towards Young, mumbling one set of syllables softly, over and over.

He couldn't help his response – Young found himself gathering Rush up into his arms, settling his head in against his thigh, and curling down around him, stroking a hand through the thick, surprisingly soft layers of Rush's long hair. He had to nearly rest his ear against the crown of Rush's head to hear what he was saying, it sounded first like "Glory" and then resolved into "Gloria."

It took Young longer than he felt it should have to make the connection. That had been Rush's late wife's name. Young had read the file, but he'd been so busy. He'd barely paid attention to the notation of the years-old death of Gloria Rush, for it had occurred before Rush had been recruited by the SGC. She'd died of an illness, Young recalled. Cancer?

He felt a flood of guilt staining his cheeks in color, even as he cradled Rush with his entire body, continuing to stroke his hair. He hadn't thought about what that kind of loss meant. What that grief must have felt like. Rush was so much of a challenge, simultaneously penetrating and impenetrable, that Young had never stopped to consider him in a more human light.

To be honest, he'd wondered if Rush had feelings at all. The man seemed so scientific, so pragmatic, so comfortable in his aloneness, that Young hadn't bothered to consider what might be behind that icy exterior. He'd had too difficult a time trying to keep up with the genius mind; that had preoccupied him. He'd been blinded by his worry of being left behind.

Now, he felt sickened by his own failure to remember that despite being a certified, and probably certifiable, genius, Rush was still a human being. He had experienced love and grief and pain and loss. Young could barely contemplate what he might feel if he could never see Emily again… or TJ… no, he wasn't going there. He was having a hard enough time with the thought of losing the man trembling, shaking with fever, in his arms.

Rush's mumblings got louder, he was calling out Gloria's name more urgently now, pleading. The shivers in his slender frame were turning into shudders and Young realized, almost with horror, that it wasn't fevered chills anymore, it was sobs of grief. He lowered his hand to press to Rush's hot cheek and found it wet with tears. He felt helpless. He couldn't deal with his own emotions, much less someone else's.

So he simply held on to Rush and tried not to hear the ragged gasps for breath and the heart-piercing cries. He held him like a mother holds a crying child, stroking his head, his shoulders, rocking him slightly. He ignored, closed off, denied the tears that threatened to drip from his own eyes. He just held on.


	6. Chapter 6

Rush finally quieted, his body slumping bonelessly against Young who carefully settled him back against the bed and pillow, drawing the blankets up to his chin.

It was a relief to have the silence for a while. Young stretched out cramped limbs, managed a short nap of his own, wandered back and forth across the room several times, rubbing at the soreness in his neck and shoulders, then sat back down.

Rush was talking again, but the words were less difficult. Something about ships and docks and names, places or people, Young wasn't sure.

He washed Rush's face down, noticing that the man was starting to sweat. Hadn't TJ said that this would be a good sign? His skin felt slightly cooler to the touch, but Young wasn't sure. He considered calling TJ, but didn't want to wake her up unless absolutely necessary.

Before he could make a final decision, Rush's eyes fluttered open and fixated blearily on Young's face.

"Wha…" was about all he got out, before he jerked upwards and grabbed Young's arm.

"The code for the coolant systems, did I get it? Did Eli?" he demanded.

"Yes, you solved it and Eli took care of the rest," Young reassured him, trying to press Rush back down into the bed. It didn't take much effort. Rush dropped like a stone, sighing and rubbing at his brow.

"You're sure?" he asked, in a hoarse voice.

"Yes, Eli's monitoring but it's been fixed," Young told him, reaching across for the glass of water on the bedside stand. He eased a hand under Rush's head to help support him up as he held the glass.

"Not too fast," Young warned, remember TJ's advice. Rush's hand closed over his around the glass and took a couple of gulps, then relaxed back, his eyes squeezing shut briefly before reopening.

"How long?" he asked.

"Most of a day, I think," Young replied. He hadn't been bothering to check his watch. He did so now and grimaced. "It's about 3am."

Rush groaned softly.

"You should go back to sleep," Young told him. "You've been delirious with the fever. I should wake TJ, get her to check on you. You feel cooler." He pressed the back of his hand to Rush's forehead.

"Don't wake her up," Rush said. His face recovered a look that Young recognized; that brilliant mind was beginning to awaken, to focus. That was followed by another familiar expression, shutters on emotion except for the piercing eyes.

"How delirious?"

"Very," Young said.

There – that was a flinch of something, a twitch of his lips, a deepening of the paired dimples in the right corner of his mouth and a slight narrowing of the eyes. Young abruptly realized that he'd seen that before, more than once, he'd just never recognized it. Was that emotion? If it was, it was a painful one. It looked raw.

Rush swallowed and looked away, asking "Did I say anything…?"

Young's mind tumbled over this, what could he respond to that question? Something in him warned him against telling the truth. Rush wouldn't want to know he had sobbed openly in Young's arms. That wound was far more open, far more bloody, than the claw marks in his arm. Young understood those kinds of wounds and the desire to keep them hidden. He was that way himself. He could honor that.

He forced himself to chuckle and smile, though it felt flat – false – to him.

"You've got one hell of an accent when you're feverish. I don't think I understood one word in ten."

And yes, that was a flash of relief on Rush's face. Young catalogued that expression too for future reference. He needed the insights into this man's emotions and thoughts. He told himself it was simply because their lives depended on him, which was true, after all. His personal fascination with Rush and his own unsettled feelings towards the man were things – well those were just more of those private things you didn't look at if you could help it.

"Where I come from, Colonel, you'd be the one with the accent," Rush told him, a hint of his old bite returning.

Young found himself smiling with relief. He could live with the acidic personality if it meant Rush was well. "Yes, I'm sure that's true. Now get some sleep."

He tucked the blanket back up around Rush and gave him a stern look. Most people responded appropriately to one of Young's command glares, but Rush never had. However, this time he did shut his eyes and settle down. It wasn't so much obedience as an expression of his utter exhaustion, but that was just fine.

Rush was asleep almost instantly and Young found as comfortable a position in the bedside chair as he could. Sleep was pulling at him too.

But before he slid under, he made one last executive decision. Dealing with a seriously ill Rush was one thing; dealing with a convalescing Rush was another.

Greer was getting a full-time nursing assignment until Rush was fully back on his feet.


End file.
